Page 20 of Salvaged Hearts

“Okay, what’s the bad news?”

“There’s malware buried on his network, and you’re not going to like who put it there.”

5

The Hellcat

GREYSON

The sound of my name pulled my attention back to Hart House through the hysterics of my niece and nephew. I had Mattie flung over my shoulder as she beat her defiant fists on my back and Beau tucked under my other arm like a massive football.

Alessandra looked entirely out of place in her curve-hugging black pencil skirt and heels at the border of the beach and pristine grass, looking at me like I was a dead man walking. Fitting. That’s a bit of how it felt.

Giving the kids one last snuggle, I sent them running across the sand toward my brother, who was waving a lobster tail between tongs like a summoning. I shook the water from my hair and closed the distance, enjoying how she refused to let her chin or eyes drop from where she’d lifted them to hold my gaze. Her arms crossed beneath her chest defensively.

“Can we talk?” was her curt request as she held up a towel that I accepted with some trace of amusement. She hid discomfort well, but her mask wasn’t impervious. She was always uncomfortable when I was casual.

Deciding to be a gentleman, I dried quickly before draping it around my shoulders to cover up a bit. Business mode that happened to be on the beach.

“What’d you find?” I asked, tone level.

“Not here,” she clarified.

I quirked my head. “It’s as good a place as any,” I countered.

“I called in a favor atDe Luca’sfor you, and we have a reservation in thirty minutes.”

Studying the harsh set of her expression, I narrowed my eyes.

De Luca’swas our family’s favorite restaurant. My mother’s cousin owned the place; it was our go-to for celebrations and funerals. Her harsh façade made this outing feel like the latter. But the firey fight in her eyes had me nodding in acquiescence.

Because the fight hid something worse that I didn’t want to be the cause of.

Fear.

The ride to the restaurant was made in a heavy, contemplative silence. Occupying the second-row captain’s chairs in the SUV, Alessandra kept her attention on the city, passing her heavily tinted window while I kept mine on her beautiful profile. I would miss this infuriating woman when she left. I would miss her sharp observations and proactive anticipation of what we needed as a department and company. She was the only assistant I never wanted to forcefully remove from my office, car, or home. I’d miss that too.

But first, we had to survive the scandal to come.

When we got toDeLuca’s, I rushed around to beat Arthur to her door, holding it open and extending a hand to help her out. Her nose was so often glued to folders, tablets, or her phone as she navigated my life like the co-pilot I hadn’t realized I needed. It was an unspoken protocol that she didn’t even notice anymore.

Greetings were exchanged with familiar staff members before we were led not to my usual booth in the back but to the private party room fit for thirty. The long tables greeted us, ominous in their empty finality as we were led to the two lone place mats at the head of one. Neither of us sat. For a moment, I contemplated her chosen location.

Private for conversation. In my family’s restaurant so the press wouldn’t be permitted back, and surveillance wasn’t a concern. But public enough that she knew she was safe.

She wasn’t just scared. She thought the information she was about to deliver was worth killing for. Or valuable enough to destroy her over. I had a sinking suspicion it might just be. But there wasn’t a country on the planet where Alessandra Rhodes would bemycollateral.

The lights were left low, and a hush settled over the space when the hostess closed the sliding doors behind her. Alessandra hovered behind her chair for a beat before crossing the space and clicking play on the stereo, which stirred to life, opera filling the speakers.

When she returned, she stood behind her chair and blew out a long breath.

Motioning to the banquet table between us, I declared, “You have the floor, Ms. Rhodes.”

Never one to beat around the bush, she breathed, “Tell me what you know aboutObsidian.”

The world…stopped. The fucking bravado of this brilliant, infuriating woman. There it was. I knew there was a chance but clung to hope she hadn’t dug far enough to find the information hidden inside codes within codes.

I just needed to know how much she knew. “I’m sorry. Aboutwhat?”

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